He gave a slow nod. He knew exactly what she didn’t want to say. Although many child blood disorders were now curable—not everyone had the same outcome. He could tell this case was bothering her.
He stood up. ‘Come on,’ he said.
She looked confused. ‘What?’
He leaned over and grabbed his jacket, shutting down the computer quickly. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m going to shout you dinner.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, I do. Come on.’
She shook her head again. ‘No. It’s late, you must be tired. You’ve already given up your holiday.’
He extended his hand out towards her. ‘As have you.’
He wasn’t going to listen to any of those half-hearted excuses. He’d only had a glimpse of the type of person that she was—and it was enough. She’d had to move away to study. Her long-term career path couldn’t be here—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to give up all her holidays in order to pay back a little to the place she called home.
If he was tired—how was she?
When was the last time Arissa Cotter had been pampered? Taken out for dinner? Looked after?
There was something behind those eyes that he hadn’t got to the bottom of. And after only a couple of days he couldn’t expect to. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t curious.
She hadn’t taken his hand yet. ‘Do you really want to go back home and eat barbecue snack noodles?’ he teased.
She sighed, then laughed. ‘Actually I planned to have frozen pizza and some candy bars.’
He put one hand on his hip, leaving his other hand deliberately still extended. ‘Oh, it was one of those kind of nights.’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. I hadn’t quite decided yet.’
‘Well, I have. I spotted a restaurant in the next street over I want to try.’
Her tired eyes twinkled. ‘Which one?’
He looked directly at his outstretched hand. ‘You have to agree to come before I tell you.’
It was almost like a stand-off. She reached for her denim jacket and put her hand in his. ‘How about you let me pick your dinner?’
Right now, he’d agree to any terms. ‘What, you know the boss? You get a discount?’ he joked.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Like you need one.’
His stomach gave a tiny twist. Maybe he wasn’t as incognito as he’d thought.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later she’d ordered all her favourites. Homemade roti canai, roti telor and curry chicken, Indonesian fried rice and seafood soup. The aroma made her stomach rumble loudly and he turned towards her and laughed.
She gestured towards the array of dishes on the table. ‘You asked for recommendations.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘All of them?’
‘Absolutely. Dig in. The food here is the best around.’
Philippe didn’t hang around, he filled up his plate and sampled everything.
She couldn’t help but watch him. He’d changed just before they came here and the black polo shirt made his eyes seem even darker. He signalled to the waiter for some wine and waited until they both had a glass.
She took a sip and leaned back in her chair.
‘When was the last time you actually relaxed?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can practically see the knots in your shoulders.’
She shook her head. ‘No, you can’t. And I told you, this is what I like to do on my holidays.’
‘But then you’re never really not working.’
She took in a deep breath. ‘I know. But it’s what I do. And it’s not just me. There are others too.’ She ran her fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass. ‘It’s called giving back. I guess in a world of non-stop technology and the search for perfection it’s kind of been forgotten along the way.’
He set down his knife and fork and smiled at her. ‘You’ve no idea how good that is to hear.’
She met his gaze and gave a sad kind of smile. ‘I sometimes feel as if life is rushing past.’ She held out her hand and looked out of the window to the street outside. Even though it was late at night the streets in Temur Sapora were still vibrant with life. The street markets lasted until late in the evening, packed stalls with brightly coloured strips of red and yellow forming the roofs. Business was brisk and the chatter lively.